If I Only Could
by freckleon
Summary: Today is not the day that Charles' world came crumbling down. Today is two weeks earlier.


**Title: **If I Only Could

**Warnings: **Slash

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X-Men: First Class or its characters.

**Summary:** Time-travel!fic. Today is not the day that Charles' world came crumbling down. Today is two weeks earlier.

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Ian doesn't like being different.

He doesn't hate it exactly, because hate might indicate anger and Ian tries to steer clear of being angry, but he certainly doesn't care for being the odd man out. Being the only kid with an accent at an all-boys prep school in Indiana can do that to a guy.

Unfortunately for Ian, when he was six he got upset because his brother broke his brand-new bike. It was the angriest he could remember being as he stared at the bent wheel and the jacked up handlebars. Just as he felt ready to explode on his brother, the world gave a strange jolt and he was suddenly back in his house, being led to the garage as his dad was saying, "It's just the one you wanted, birthday boy!"

Needless to say, Ian doesn't let his brother borrow the bike this time around.

It happens a few more times over the years, catching Ian off guard, never in his control, and each time it does Ian spends the first few minutes or hours or even days feeling disorientated and befuddled. He gets easily confused in conversations that he has already had. The awkward behavior only makes it more difficult to fit in.

Ian likes to fit in.

So he tamps down his anger in situations that test his patience and tries to ignore that there is anything different or mutated about him.

.

This actually seems to work right up until Ian hears the screaming.

It's like someone has set off a siren in his head, powerful and unbearably loud. With it comes a tidal wave of grief, cutting through his brain like a blade. Ian will have time later to worry about the spectacle he's making as he grabs his head and rolls to the ground in agony, but for now he can't concentrate past someone screaming 'stop, make it stop'. Ian is mortified to discover that the voice is his own.

_It wasn't meant to be this way, _comes an anguished cry, breaking through the onslaught emotion.

This isn't Ian's anger, isn't his agony, but somehow the world is shaking anyway, reacting to this other person's emotions and shifting beneath Ian's body until-

.

Charles blinks, gripping his chair and feeling off-kilter, out-of-place. Across the chess board, Erik is smiling at him and saying, "...lose then you have to prove your claim of being able to drink me under the table. Deal?"

Trying to focus, Charles takes in the other man's sharp grin and easy posture. Erik is looking at him expectantly, waiting for the response to a question Charles didn't even hear.

Charles is too busy trying to figure out how the hell he got off that beach.

Only moments ago he was lying in the sand, bleeding from a bullet wound he couldn't even feel and watching this man, this smiling, friendly man, turn his back on Charles forever.

"Charles?" Erik says, smile fading. "Something wrong?"

Charles shakes his head, more to clear it than as an answer, and tentatively opens his mind, probing gently at Erik's memories.

There's nothing there to indicate that Erik is aware of the events that recently transpired. In fact, Erik is currently thinking only of his desire to win the match (_don't want to be stuck as target practice for Alex_) and a slight worry aimed at Charles' sudden behavior (_hope he didn't let Hank ply him with any strange substances_).

"I apologize, my friend," Charles says, attempting to keep his voice level. "I'm afraid I was lost in thought."

Erik raises his eyebrows, smirk returning to his face. "I hope you won't have the same issue tomorrow. Alex is liable to set you on fire during training if you aren't paying attention."

If Charles hadn't already surmised the situation, that would have done it. The children aren't training anymore and Alex has had his powers under control for over a week.

A quick flicker of influence lets Charles pluck a date from Erik's head. Today is not the day that Charles's world came crumbling down.

Today is two weeks earlier.

.

There is a moment where Charles is prepared to tell his friend everything.

Since they met, Erik has been his confidant, an equal. Someone in whom Charles could trust with his thoughts and worries.

But as he opens his mouth, the horrible sight of Erik- no, Magneto- turning those missiles around, ready to kill regardless of the loss, regardless of Charles pleading for him to _stop, think, don't do it_ _**please**_-

He says nothing.

.

The distraction causes Charles to lose the chess match.

The wicked grin on Erik's face grows as the game progresses until he looks downright giddy. Try as he might, Charles can't match up the playful, happy man in front of him with the one who would attempt mass murder before leaving Charles a cripple from a bullet _he_ put there.

"Fair's fair," Erik says when the game is over. "Tomorrow night we're getting drunk."

Something feels off and after a moment, Charles realizes why: this was a game he should have won.

He remembers the bet, Erik trying to get out of spending the day as a human prop for Alex to practice around. In the other past, the one that Charles is now reliving, Charles had won this chess game. He'd been spurred on by the challenge in Erik's eyes, the lazy splay of his arms. The following day had been spent in quiet amusement as he watched the kids gather for Alex's training, in hopes of seeing Alex make the stoic Erik flinch.

Erik hadn't blinked, of course. Had somehow managed to look incredibly bored throughout, even as bright red blasts flew inches from his skin.

Now, though, Charles has already altered the course of events.

But can he change them enough to make a difference?

.

They get wasted.

Charles has needed a drink since living through the sensation of a coin slicing through his skull. Erik seems torn between being impressed by Charles' enthusiasm or worried.

Eight drinks in and Charles can't help himself.

"You're going to kill Shaw," he says, matter-of-fact, thought the words slur a bit.

Erik looks over, shifts slightly on the sofa. "Yes."

"I cannot stop you in this endeavor. I will not try."

Erik's squints at him, face more easily read after several drinks. He's suspicious, startled.

"There will be collateral damage for your revenge, Erik," continues Charles, eyes closed and forehead damp where he's resting his glass. "You must know this." Still the man beside him stays silent.

Quietly, alcohol dulling his dread, Charles whispers, "Where do you draw the line?"

After a loaded pause in which Charles can feel Erik scrutinizing him, Erik says, "I will do what I must."

"And what if the price is Hank or Sean or Raven? Will you still do it?" Erik is looking vaguely surprised, as if he didn't expect Charles to be so forward. "What if it's me you have to lose to continue this vendetta?"

"I would never hurt you Charles," hisses Erik, suddenly vicious.

"Are you sure, my friend?" Charles shoots back, bitter. He can still feel the shock of the bullet, the sting of Erik turning his back.

"You do not trust me." Erik's voice is flat, his face shuttered. His mind, however, reveals his hurt.

_I did._

Charles lets the thought slip through to Erik, takes one last gulp of bitter alcohol, and goes to bed.

.

When Erik is near and smiling, leaning in to Charles' space like he belongs, Charles' stomach clenches like he's a giddy schoolboy.

This is nothing new. His focus might have been concentrated on other things before: training, Shaw, nuclear war, but Erik—the man—was never far from his mind. It seems that unintentionally shooting him in the back hasn't dampened those feelings.

But betrayal runs deep. Now his throat seizes up as well, a pang of longing flushing through his body when he looks at the other man. Charles doesn't know how act like nothing is wrong, when _everything_ is wrong.

Avoiding Erik is only a temporary solution. This isn't the way to fix things.

Charles does it anyway.

.

Erik isn't the only person Charles lost on the beach that day.

He finds Raven in her bedroom reading, blue as the day they met. She doesn't notice him in the doorway at first, absorbed as she is, so he takes a moment to study her. She is exotically attractive, a striking image in the sunlit room. This is something Charles has always known, but never told her. He should have.

"You're beautiful," he says, because this is a second chance.

Startled, she glances up. For a moment her appearance flickers back to white skin and blonde hair, a reflexive action that gives him a punch of regret, before she deliberately smoothes into her natural form.

Charles doesn't read her mind, he wouldn't. Nevertheless, he can feel the unexpected rush of pleasure Raven gets at his words. He smiles.

"Charles," she says, uncurling from the settee and holding out her book. "Read to me?"

.

It doesn't take Erik long to realize he's being given the cold shoulder. He's not the only one.

"Lover's spat?" says Sean over his cereal bowl one week before the attack.

"What?" Charles is caught up staring at his own breakfast and contemplating how to change the future.

"You and Erik," Sean mumbles to him through a mouthful of Cheerios. "You guys have been all," he shakes a spoon at Charles vaguely, "tense lately. Out-of-whack. Raven says you're going through 'marital difficulties'."

Dumbfounded, Charles stares at him mutely. There's milk dripped across the floor and Sean easily goes back to lounging against the kitchen counter, bowl held up to his chin.

"We're fine," he tells the mutant, at last.

"Maybe someone should tell magnet man that. He's been stalking around the castle like a time bomb for days."

Sadly, Sean is right. It isn't hard to notice that Erik can hardly stand the company of anyone lately.

Great. Now he's taking advice from his own student. Time to man up.

.

"Care for a match?"

Erik looks at him carefully, perhaps suspicious of Charles' sudden appearance at his side. "Talking to me again, are you?"

"I was…" Charles searches for an appropriate word. "Distracted."

"You were avoiding me."

Charles doesn't deny it. He waves an arm towards the door of his room.

After a moment, Erik follows.

.

An hour later, Erik says, "You going to tell me what's been on your mind?" He sounds frustrated. His moves have been haphazard, aggravated. He hasn't made it near Charles' king all night.

Charles stops staring at the chess board and glances up. The man across from him has his arms folded, legs crossed. Defensive. It occurs to the telepath (and he should have known; he _did_ know) that he has managed to _wound_ Erik by ignoring him, even if only for a few days.

Charles had been worried. Worried that the friendship he thought they had, the brotherhood he felt, had been false. Something he'd fashioned through a desire to believe that Erik was just as hopelessly entangled in this relationship as Charles. Not out of the realm of possibilities, now that Charles knows just how easy it is for Erik to abandon him.

But here? Now? Charles isn't alone. Not yet.

"Alright," says Charles quietly, leaning back. "But you won't like it."

He tells Erik everything. The sub, the helmet, Shaw, the missiles, the gun… Even about Raven. Then, when Erik is still sitting silently, watching Charles like he can barely believe him, Charles lifts a hand. Touches it lightly to Erik's face. "I can show you."

.

"This is why. Why you've been pulling away."

Charles pulls his hand back, uses it to cradle his own head. "I was feeling… betrayed. But I admit that it wasn't entirely fair of me to blame you for something you have yet to do. I am sorry, my friend."

"Charles," Erik says sharply. He opens his mouth again, then closes it with a click of teeth. Stands up abruptly to pace the room. "I don't want that, you must know. I never wanted that."

"To which disaster are you referring?"

"There are a lot of things I would do to protect our kind from humans," Erik answers carefully, eyes shuttered. He stops moving, hands in his pockets and posture stiff. Catches Charles' gaze and holds it. "But harming you was _never_ an option."

.

"You don't understand." This is a point Charles must make. Something that is essential for Erik to understand.

The taller man looks ready to argue, but something stops him. He stays silent. Charles explains, "I would do it again. Getting shot," an almost imperceptible wince from his audience, "is worth the lives of hundreds of men. Worth attempting to deter the beginnings of a war."

"What I cannot do again, my friend, is watch you turn those missiles around." Charles walks to the window, leaning against it. Erik's eyes follow. "Perhaps you are right about humans and mutants. Perhaps we'll never live in harmony. But I cannot stand the thought of spending the rest of my life fighting you, _fearing_ you. Erik—" His voice breaks stupidly. Charles is almost choking on the words. He can remember what it felt like, the panic and desperation, when he realized that Magneto wasn't going to stop. "I cannot do it again."

"I wouldn't want you to." Erik's voice is sincere. "But that doesn't change the fact that humans will always fear mutants, will always feel the need to strike against us. What you've shown me proves it."

Charles sighs. "I understand that." He looks away, guilt scraping at the edges of his mind. "I knew that before, I think. I just didn't want to accept that the issue might be forced on us so fast. I thought I had time."

"To change my mind."

"Something like that."

"Charles—"

Charles holds up a hand. "It's different now. I saw them turn that firepower on us without a second thought. However, I should have made myself clear before. There are lines I will not cross, no matter the circumstance. Mass murder? On people who don't even understand the situation, haven't been given a choice? I will not join you in that, my friend."

Across the room, Erik is taking in this information. Calculating the possible outcomes, what he is willing to give up. "But you will join me in something," Erik says slowly, almost hesitant.

.

Now that the hard stuff is out of the way, Charles finds that there is one more regret he needs to amend.

Sending a thought for Erik to stop by his own room before their chess match that evening isn't difficult. When the other mutant arrives, it is to discover Charles sitting on the edge of Erik's bed, hands clasped and mouth set in a determined lilt.

"Chess in here tonight?" Erik asks, confused.

Standing, Charles replies, "No."

Erik is usually a patient man in conversations. He can hold his silence, waiting for another to reveal their purpose. But tonight he must feel the charge in the air, the thick tension of standing at the edge of something momentous, for he looks uncharacteristically impatient. "Do you need something?"

Erik's voice is pitched low, lower than usual. Charles takes it as an invitation.

"Yes," he states and pushes Erik into a wall.

.

Charles had been fairly certain, but not sure. This isn't something the telepath would invade another mutant's privacy to find out. So when he puts his mouth against Erik's, it is not as a person confident in the outcome. He is a mutant, but he is also just a man: equal parts thrilled and terrified.

Charles kisses Erik fiercely. Hopefully.

Hands immediately tangle in his hair, clenching as Erik stumbles against the wall from Charles' sudden movement. It isn't an answer though, not yet, just an instinct until— Charles stutters out a sigh of relief when Erik growls and returns the kiss almost desperately.

"I had thought—" gasps Erik raggedly between open-mouthed kisses. He's moving them further into the room, tripping awkwardly over a rug in his haste and not caring a bit. "That perhaps—perhaps it was only me."

A broken off laugh escapes from Charles, just this side of hysterical. "Oh no, my friend." He's drowning and soaring, body a mess of contradictions, but there is no doubt. Not for this. "You are not alone."

.

Erik still kills Shaw. Charles still helps him.

The rest, however… The rest is another matter.

The humans will find out more about mutants. This is inevitable. But for now, there are no missiles launched at a beach. No renegade mutants spoiling for a war of species.

Things are not perfect. Erik will not give up his mission to keep mutants safe from human threat and Charles will not give up his desire to see them both live in peace.

Apart, these ideas would have likely fizzled. Erik might have spent years living underground, recruiting other mutants and making dozens of failed attempts on the government. Charles could have been constrained to a wheelchair the rest of his life, pleading with the government to understand that mutants are not to be feared and ostracized.

These scenarios could have been their life.

Now, though… Everything is different. Charles and Erik are together.

And this time they're going to get it right.

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(end)

I have no idea what the timeline for the movie was, so I apologize if anything didn't match up. Also:

Convenient plot point is convenient.

Lame ending is lame.

Finishing fic for a fandom that has a fan base of over ten is AWESOME. (sorry Knight'n'Rogue)


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